


Of Lace and Pleasure Slaves

by knight_fury (psychobabblers), psychobabblers



Category: DCU
Genre: Brainwashing, Dubious Consent, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychobabblers/pseuds/knight_fury, https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychobabblers/pseuds/psychobabblers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superman and Batman hit a snag on what was supposed to be a simple mission before Valentine's Day. A snag of the brainwashing variety. Or, the one where Bruce is brainwashed into believing that he's Kal's pleasure slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So the idea came to me when I was just coming down from a few months long Star Wars high and suddenly really wanted to see Clark and Bruce deal with one of the most common tropes of the TPM fandom. For bradygirl_12's 2012 DCU Fic/Art Valentine's Day Challenge for the prompts "black lace," "music," and "dinner".

The planet Driri loomed before them, resplendent and jewel-like in the blackness of space. Kal knew he’d never get over the wonder of seeing planets like this, too fragile-looking to hold billions of lives, though the dappled blue, green and white of his adopted planet would always hold a special place in his heart.

“We’ve received permission to land,” Bruce noted at his side.

“Thanks for agreeing to come on this mission by the way,” Kal said.

Bruce shrugged. “Something this simple sounding? Something bad’s bound to happen, especially with you involved. Just get me back in time for Valentine’s Day, or whoever my fling of the week is is going to have my head.”

Kal grinned. “The Batman, frightened by little Audrey Fontaine?”

“I don’t know how you even manage to remember their names,” Bruce growled good humouredly.

Kal thought about the pang that ran through him every time Bruce appeared on the tabloids with his new arm candy, whose smile was always either predatory or empty, Bruce’s smile just as bland. He shrugged. “I just have a good memory.”

Bruce glanced at him as the plane touched the landing pad, but obviously deciding not to push. “Come on,” he said, sweeping out of the door to the waiting Dririans.

“Greetings, Superman and Batman,” one of the Dririans said. “I am Ambassador Ramahi. We are honored by your presence at this day of rejoicing for us.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Superman replied. “We are glad to be here.”

“I am sure you are tired after your journey. Dahmi here will you show you to your rooms. There will be plenty of time to speak later after you have rested. As you know, the wedding isn’t until tomorrow.”

Dahmi, a quiet, reserved female, stepped forward. “Please, follow me,” she said, leading them into the palace. They followed her past ornately sculpted pillars, beautiful gardens, and a delicious smelling corridor that could only lead to the kitchens. Kal eagerly anticipated the coming dinner. “Here we are,” she said, as they stepped off the elevator. “Your code is 1090,” she told them. One of the doors opened, revealing a luxuriously furnished sitting room with two bedrooms attached. “Please enjoy your stay. I will return in five hours to show you to tonight’s feast.” She bowed, leaving them in the spacious suite.

Bruce glanced at Kal and stepped out onto the balcony. Kal hesitated, and then joined him. He found him looking out over the mountains in the distance, crowned with white, at the faint salty breeze that blew in from the ocean not far away. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to put all the numerous things Superman constantly had to worry about to the back of his mind, letting himself enjoy the clean air and companionable silence. He sighed softly Bruce was looking at him when he opened his eyes again.

“What?” he asked, smiling slightly.

Bruce turned back to look at the scenery and then back to Kal. “It’s just…a nice view,” he said. His shoulders brushed Kal’s as he headed back inside.

***

It was a lovely ceremony the next morning, short and private; there would be a public one in the planet’s largest stadium later in the day. “That was nice,” Kal commented as they returned to their rooms to rest for a few hours before the public afternoon wedding began. Bruce nodded his agreement, eyes flicking past every shadow as they walked through the halls filled with Dririans getting ready for the day’s festivities.

In their room, Kal sat down on one of the comfortable couches. Bruce stretched, removed the cowl, and sat down next to him, surprisingly. Kal wasn’t going to complain though. He pulled out the Drinian poetry book he had started yesterday night and began to read, the sound of Bruce’s quiet breathing and steady heartbeat a soothing accompaniment to the intricately woven words.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when Bruce’s breathing changed. He looked up from his book to find Bruce looking at him, gaze soft and intense all at once. “I realized something,” Bruce said, eyes stormy, voice low. “You—I—”

A faint sound of creaking reached his ears. “Ah—sorry,” Kal said quickly and just managed to fly to the stadium in time to catch the massive canopy over the stage as it collapsed and fell towards the workers below. He obligingly held it in place as the workers got over their shock and secured it, the manager shouting apologies up at him. “I’m just glad no one got hurt,” Kal replied affably. He just wished the timing wasn’t so bad. Bruce had been about to say something to him, something important.

When he got back to their rooms, Bruce was cowled again. “Anyone injured?” he asked. Batman voice. The moment had passed.

Kal suppressed a sigh and answered with a shake of his head. Bruce's lips quirked up in a rare smile at the unspoken question. “We can talk after the wedding,” he said.

***

The public wedding was just as nice as the private one, if louder and rowdier. Kal could hardly blame the people though. The prince was a popular man, kind and caring of his people. The king and queen looked on, smiling proudly as the High Priest spoke of love and compassion and togetherness. Then the newlyweds were kissing and the entire stadium erupted in cheers, echoed by the rest of the planet’s citizens.

The people quieted though, when the High Priest held up a hand, signifying the start of the traditional Chant. Superman spoke the words he had memorized, hearing Batman do the same next to him, the foreign Drinian syllables rolling easily off his tongue. They were words of, like the wedding vows, love and friendship, and as the chanting grew louder, he could feel his heart beating faster and faster, as he thought of his friends and family, and especially the man who had stolen his heart, even if that man hadn’t realized it yet. The chanting rose to a crescendo and then stopped. He turned to look at Batman, his heart full to bursting, ready to confess everything to him in that moment, but froze. Batman was gripping the handrails tightly, his entire frame trembling faintly. He felt a twinge of worry.

Superman barely managed to catch Batman as he collapsed onto the ground, clutching at his head.

The medical teams rushed to where Superman was holding Batman, the visible portion of his face scrunched up in a pained grimace. The pain must be staggering for him to lose control like that. He hadn’t responded when Superman had called his name, just continued to grip his head. The healers took one look at Batman and paled, quickly pulling him onto a stretcher and loading him into the waiting vehicle.

“No, stop,” a healer protested when Superman attempted to get to Batman. “Your presence might make things worse. Superman clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Come.” Superman looked down to see the Drinian ambassador standing before him, looking shaken and apologetic. “I will show you to the healing wing.”

They got into the car the ambassador called, never mind that Superman could have flown there in a second. They didn’t speak on the ride over, the air heavy with the Drinian’s guilt, but Superman couldn’t bring himself to alleviate the tension, instead staring out the window at the partying people. He realized his hands were clenched into fists and forced himself to relax. When they arrived, Superman followed the man into the building without a word, sat down in the waiting room they directed him to, declined the offer of food and drink.

Finally, a Drinian dressed in healer’s robes came out. “Batman is stable now,” he said, but quickly held up a hand when Superman made to move past him. “Wait, there’s something you must know.”

He felt the dread begin to creep back from where the sharp tide of relief had washed it. “What’s wrong?” he asked tersely.

“It seems as if he has been brainwashed.”

“Okay,” Superman said slowly. “What’s his mental state then?”

The Drinian looked suddenly uncomfortable, but squared his shoulders and explained, “He thinks he’s a pleasure slave.”

There was a long moment of silence after that declaration.

Superman stared at the healer in consternation, positive that he had heard incorrectly. “Come again?” he asked politely. After all, there was no way—Batman couldn’t possibly—

“Your friend has been brainwashed into thinking he’s a pleasure slave,” the healer said bluntly, only the slight twitching of his whiskers betraying his agitation. “ _Your_ pleasure slave, to be exact.”

Superman felt horror begin creeping in on his shock. Batman was going to _kill_ him when they got out of this mess.

***

“So how exactly did this happen?” Superman asked.

“We’re not sure,” Ramahi answered. “Our wisest Elders are deep in discussion about this unfortunate situation. Rest assured that we will find a solution or die trying.”

Superman blinked at the solemn eyes that stared up into his. “Uh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” he said hastily. “But I would appreciate your Elders’ help in solving this problem.”

“We can do no less, seeing as it was our fault you are in this predicament. Please accept our humblest apologies for this oversight. We should have considered the possible side effects to the ceremony, rooted as they are in ancient spells, and with your alien physiologies.” They stopped at the room they were keeping Batman in, his friend looking out of place on the bed, still fully armored. Believing that he was Superman’s— As it had many times during the past few minutes, Superman’s brain short circuited before he could finish the thought.

He sat down in the surprisingly comfortable chair someone had placed beside the bed. “We will leave you then,” the ambassador said softly. “We will inform you as soon as we know anything.” The door closed gently behind her and the healer.

Kal hesitantly placed a hand on Bruce’s arm, taking comfort in the fact that the doctors had said he was stabilized, at least. He was unprepared when Bruce turned his head to look at him at his touch. Instantly, he stood up, leaning over his friend. “How are you feeling?”

Bruce brought an arm up to touch his head, mouth turned down in a slight grimace. “Bruce?” Kal said, worried, but feeling a stir of hope. Maybe the Drinians were wrong. Maybe there was nothing wrong with Bruce.

“Fine,” Bruce said, terse as always, and that was all the warning Kal got before Bruce had him pinned to the wall, kissing him with furious abandon. When a hot tongue began probing insistently at his closed lips, Kal grasped his remaining wits and pushed Bruce gently away. Bruce relaxed in his grip, looking at him from under lowered lashes—or he would be, if he hadn’t been wearing the cowl. Kal knew the look well, had seen Bruce direct it at a countless number of people. And now at himself.

“Uh,” Kal said, still dazed from the kiss. He shook himself. “Bruce—”

“Yes, Master?” Bruce asked. Kal felt his heart plummet at the words, and then steeled himself. This wasn’t really Bruce.

“Can you just…um. Sit on the bed please,” Kal said. “And don’t call me Master.”  
Bruce sat as requested, thankfully, and tilted his head. “What should I call you then, Master?”

Kal sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Kal. My name is Kal,” wondering if Bruce had memory loss as well.

“I’m not calling you by your name,” Bruce said. Kal opened his mouth to argue, but recognized the mulish set of his jaw from all the times Batman and Superman had nearly come to blows at League meetings. There was no changing the man’s mind when he was like this unless he wanted it changed. He heaved a sigh. Bruce seemed to take his silence as agreement because he leaned back against the headboard with a smug smile on his face that quickly turned seductive. Kal felt a shiver run through him at the sight of a fully costumed Batman smirking at him like that.

Unfortunately, Bruce’s powers of perception were still excellent as always, and Kal found himself looking down at Bruce kneeling at his feet. “Ah, that’s…no, stop that,” he managed as Bruce began rubbing the side of his head gently against his crotch.

“Mm,” Bruce said happily. “You smell good.”

Kal hauled him upright and pushed him back down onto the bed when he leaned in for a kiss.

“Not right now,” he said, as firmly as he could manage. “Tell me what you remember,” he said before Bruce could ask him why.

“You are my Master and I am your pleasure slave,” Bruce said. At Kal’s frown, he began to repeat. “You are my—”

Kal held up his hand. “No, there’s really no need to repeat it. You don’t remember anything else?”

Bruce thought for a little. “You’re Superman!” he finally exclaimed.

Kal grinned. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “Yes I am. Do you know who you are?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, and then dashed Kal’s hopes by continuing with, “I am your pleasure slave.”

Kal really hated magic sometimes.

***

The healers released Bruce into his care the next afternoon, the ambassador showing up briefly after Superman had gotten him back to the rooms to inform him of what the Elders had discovered so far. She looked harried.

“It seems that the strength of your love combined with your Kryptonian physiology caused the faint residue of magic in the chant to awaken,” she said, oblivious to how Superman gaped a little at the words. _Love._ But he didn’t— Sure, there’d been an attraction, a spark of something, a potential, but love? Was it that obvious?

“So how do we reverse the effects?” Superman asked, hoping furiously that it was possible. He could just imagine what the League would say if they found out. And Rao, Bruce’s family. Not to mention his public identity. This was a disaster.

“They are not sure yet,” she admitted. “But they are still searching. They do need time to rest though. It is not without reason that they are called the Elders.”

“Yes, of course,” Superman said, feeling a little guilty that his thoughts were consumed with Bruce’s situation. “I greatly appreciate their help.”

Ramahi smiled at him a little and bowed, leaving Superman alone in the rooms with Batman. Who was nowhere to be found.

Superman bit back a curse. He quickly scanned all the rooms—X-ray vision really was useful sometimes—but he was forced to conclude that Bruce had vanished. He frowned when he felt a light breeze on his face. He’d closed the curtains before he’d gone to collect Bruce. The curtains were missing. He walked out onto the balcony and looked up, eyeing the stone statues and carvings that adorned the palace exterior. Rooftops. Right.

Kal floated up to the roof and listened carefully. The sounds of the still ongoing celebration dimmed and the world narrowed to the _thump thump_ heartbeat of one man, a familiar, comfortable sound. Kal was there in a second, tense, wondering if Bruce was going to jump him again.

Bruce looked up, his eyes finding Kal’s the instant Kal alighted next to him, then dropping back down. He still had all of Batman’s instincts, judging by his reflexes and how he had managed to climb to the uppermost section of the roof. That was just what Kal needed. A possibly sex-crazed Batman on the loose. He resolved to watch him more closely in the future.

“What are you doing, Bruce?” Kal asked, eyeing the cloth spread out all around him in a black silken mass. The curtains.

“Making robes, Master,” Bruce replied, not looking up from his work.

Kal blinked. “Why?”

Bruce fumbled for something next to him. A needle, glinting in the sunlight. He threaded it with infinite care, before replying. “It’s what a pleasure slave is expected to wear.”

“What?” Kal said.

Bruce blinked up at him, mouth set in an annoyed line, another expression Kal recognized. “I will not dishonor you by wearing this armor. I am not a bodyguard,” Bruce explained, his tone a touch condescending. Then his smile took on a wicked edge. “Also the robe has easy access.”

Kal blinked again and then turned red. “Can you come down from the roof at least?” Kal said, trying to steer the conversation towards something useful.

“I like it here,” Bruce said, settling into a crouch, cape gathered around him like a pool of darkness. As if this were any other time Superman and Batman had chatted on a rooftop. Kal felt another leap of hope in his chest. Bruce was still in there, somewhere. Had to be. Kal just needed to jog his memory.

“Come with me. I have something to show you,” Kal said, putting as much authority as he could in his voice.

Bruce looked him up and down, lingering on the places where his skintight costume left nothing to the imagination. “I’ll bet you do,” he said.

“Not that,” Kal sighed.

Bruce stared at him, calculating. “I’ll come with you for a kiss.”

Kal swallowed, feeling Bruce’s eyes on his throat as he did. “Fine,” he said, and leaned down to brush one across his Bruce’s lips, wanting to make it last but feeling a surge of guilt at the thought. _Bruce didn’t have a choice in the matter_. The thought burned and he stepped back. Bruce licked his lips and scooped up the ragged pieces of curtain, following him back to their balcony. He was as graceful as ever as he dropped down onto it, lightly and lithe as a cat.

Kal floated in after him and found Bruce stripping off his armor. There was a flash of pale skin and a swirl of black and Bruce stood before him in the robe he had made. He looked soft and deadly, all at once, Kal thought. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when Bruce had told him they were pleasure slave robes, but thank whatever gods were listening that it wasn’t—wasn’t what? His mind helpfully supplied an image of Bruce in Princess Leia’s golden slave girl costume and he choked, hurriedly shutting down that line of thought.

He cleared his throat and Bruce looked up at him questioningly, cowl in his hand. He picked up the carelessly discarded belt and opened one of the containers, dumping out its contents. A torn piece of cloth, a lock of hair, a coin blackened on one side. A pearl. Things that reminded Bruce of why he went out night after night. The reason for Batman, who was as essential to Bruce as breathing. If anything could get Bruce to shake it off, it was this collection.

"Bruce?" Kal asked softly when Bruce didn't say anything, just stared blankly at the small pile of seemingly random objects. His eyes glimmered with something. Pain. Fear. Confusion. But no recognition.

Kal slowly put the tokens away, gently, carefully, hearing Bruce's heartbeat slow, even out to normal.

When he looked at Bruce again, he had put on a black domino mask, edges adorned with black lace. On the curtain, it had looked slightly tacky. On Bruce— his fingers reached out to brush the edge of it before he realized what he was doing. Bruce’s eyes closed and he made a contented humming sound, earlier panic completely gone. Kal stroked the side of his face, wanting to hear what other sounds Bruce could make. He wasn’t disappointed, and suddenly he was threading his hands through soft black hair and his lips were on Bruce’s and Bruce was groaning deliciously, grinding shamelessly against him.

There was a knock on the door and Bruce peeled himself away, leaving Kal wild eyed and panting. His brain finally caught up with the rest of his body and he sat down, hard, as he dimly heard Bruce talking to someone at the door. _Rao, what did I just do?_ He thought about what Bruce would say when he regained his mind and felt cold.

“We can’t do… what we were doing, Bruce,” Kal said, when Bruce reappeared.

“Why not? You seemed to enjoy it,” Bruce said.

“It’s not right,” Kal snapped and immediately regretted it when Bruce’s eyes flashed briefly with hurt.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Bruce offered, “I ordered some food for you earlier. Are you hungry, Master?”

Kal started to tell him he didn’t need to serve him like that, but then realized he was famished. He sighed. “Thank you, Bruce,” he said. “You don’t have to do that though.”

“It’s my duty to take care of any and all appetites you may have,” Bruce said blandly, and ducked out of the room. Muttering to himself, Kal followed.

It was a simple spread, but obviously carefully prepared. Candles cast a soft glow over the room. Bruce appeared, carrying a bottle of wine. Kal sat down and Bruce, with a brief moment of indecision, pulled up a chair next to him. They ate silently, Bruce’s hands twitching every so often like he wanted to feed Kal pieces of the food or something, but holding back. Kal was pleased; maybe the real Bruce was getting back in control. “What is this?” Kal asked finally, biting an odd looking fruit. “It’s delicious.”

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know what it’s called. It just looked good to me on the menu,” he said. “I just had a feeling you might like it.”

They cleared up the table, Bruce looking slightly disapproving of Kal helping, but just gently bumping Kal’s shoulder instead of protesting. They worked side by side, washing and drying the dishes in the suite’s small kitchen until all the dishes were neatly stacked.

Kal yawned as he put away the last dish. Bruce disappeared into the living room and when Kal followed, there were faint strands of notes filling the air. It reminded him faintly of Tchaikovsky and he sat down on the couch and closed his eyes a little, letting the music wash over him, exotic and comfortable at the same time, let it ease some of the stress out of him. “Thank you, Bruce,” he said softly, when the song ended, and the opening notes of another began. He felt relaxed and sleepy, and didn’t object when Bruce hesitantly sat next to him, his head falling on Kal’s shoulder.

When Kal woke up, it was almost completely dark in the room. Bruce was curled around him, and Kal had wrapped an arm around him some time while they were sleeping. He wished for a moment that this was real, imagined that they were back home on Earth, in his Fortress, perhaps, unwinding after a difficult mission. They could lie on the sofa together as they were now, listening to music, kissing maybe.

He almost started when soft lips touched his at the thought, and he kissed back, chasing the taste of Bruce into his own mouth, enjoying how it opened for him, probing into the sinful heat. Their tongues brushed and he groaned, moving his hands over Bruce, all over the lace-lined used-to-be-their-curtain robe, and finding that Bruce had been right, there _was_ easier access. He eyed the flat stomach covered delicately by that black lace, muscles taut with pleasure and need, realizing all of a sudden that he was hard, almost uncomfortably so, and that he was lying almost on top of Bruce, grinding down into his hips, and that they were both panting for breath, making little soft intimate noises as they moved together.

And that was when he realized how neatly he had fallen into Bruce’s trap. “Stop,” he gasped, furious with himself.

“Why?” Bruce growled, frustration evident in every line of his body. He looked down, his voice going soft. “Do you—am I not pleasing to you, Master?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Kal assured him, trying to reorganize his thoughts. “You are very…pleasing…to me. I like you very much. That’s why we can’t do this.” He groaned internally. How was he supposed to explain this to Bruce? Especially after—

He stood up abruptly. “I’m going to bed,” he said.

“Can I come with you?” Bruce asked, almost too softly to be heard. At Kal’s sharp look, he said, “I just don’t want to be alone. I hate being alone.” His eyes held a glimmer of the same look he'd worn earlier, looking at the contents of his belt. Haunted.

“Fine, then,” Kal conceded, wondering if he was doing the right thing, even as Bruce joined him in the bed, and his breath evened out to sleep. Even as his heart was telling him that yes, this was right, this was perfect. But this wasn't real. The guilt kept him up the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

“It should be a relatively simple matter for an experienced magician or telepath,” Ambassador Ramahi assured Superman. They standing on the landing dock, with Batman already coaxed into their ship by Superman before the Ambassador had arrived to see them off. “Alas, we are not psychic and our last magic-user lived thousands of years ago. Your League’s magic users or telepaths will be able to undo the effects though, I am certain. We will, of course, provide any assistance they may need on the history and nature of the chant.”

“Thank you very much for your help,” Superman said, relieved that Batman’s situation wasn’t permanent.

“No, thank _you_ for coming,” she said. “Your friend’s situation was a poor way to repay you. Please convey our deepest apologies when he returns to normal.”

“I will,” Superman said. “And Ambassador, please don’t blame yourself for this. Sometimes, things just happen.” _To us especially_ , he didn’t add.

She smiled at him. “You are a good man, Superman,” she said, “Have a safe and speedy return home.” She bowed in the traditional way of her people, one arm behind her back and the other stiffly at her side. Superman returned the gesture. They really were a kind people, and their planet was certainly beautiful. It was a pity Batman would never want to return here again once he recovered enough of his mind to do anything other than attempt to have sex with Kal.

Assuming Bruce even wanted to speak to him after this was over.

Annoyed at his sudden gloominess, he quickly shook it off as entered the cockpit of the ship. “Alright, it’s time to go. Do you remember how to fly?” Kal asked as he sat down in the pilot’s chair, Bruce already sitting in the other.

“Of course,” Bruce said, peeved. “Please don’t patronize me.”

“Sorry,” Kal said. “Can you set our course and take off then? I need to make a call.”

“Yes, Master,” Bruce replied. Kal bit back the automatic “don’t call me Master”—he was beginning to suspect Bruce did it more to annoy him than anything else—and grumbled to himself instead as he headed to the sleeping area to message the rest of the Justice League. He didn’t want Bruce listening in on this conversation.

“Hello Kal,” Diana greeted him. Her eyes narrowed as she took him in. “What’s wrong? Why are you returning early?”

“We ran into a problem,” Kal said.

“Do you need help?”

“Yes,” Kal said. “First of all though…Diana, could you keep this between us?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What happened?” she asked after a pause.

“I’ll explain, but could you get J’onn as well? And make sure you’re in a private place. I’d rather this not get around,” Kal muttered. He waited while she did as he asked.

“Kal,” J’onn greeted him with a nod. “Diana tells me you had a problem on the mission.”

“Oh the mission’s fine, just fine. The Drinians are pleased and the ceremony went well. Too well, in fact.”

J’onn and Diana looked at each other. “What do you mean?” Diana asked.

“Batman was brainwashed into thinking he’s my pleasure slave,” Kal said, as clearly and quickly as he could manage. He’d rather not have to say it more than once. Predictably, he was met with shocked silence. Diana and J’onn shared another glance.

“Batman thinks he’s your—” Diana trailed off, obviously finding it difficult to think of “Batman” and “pleasure slave” in the same sentence. Kal knew how she felt.

“It was the wedding chant. Apparently they used to be spells or something. She said that magic users or telepaths would be able to fix him.” He related what Ambassador Ramahi had told him. “I am going to need some time to think on how to fix this,” J’onn said. “It may take awhile. Call me when you arrive.” He excused himself.

Diana was still watching him. “And what is wrong with _you_?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I wasn’t affected by the chant at all.”

“Not that, Kal,” Diana said patiently. “How are you holding up?”

“…Fine,” Kal said. She lifted an eyebrow and he resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. It wouldn’t help and he didn’t want to break a hole in the room. “He keeps trying to sleep with me,” he complained.

Diana’s mouth quirked up. “Many people would be dying to be you right now.”

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of him,” Kal said, looking down.

Diana sobered immediately. “Kal,” she said gently. “It’s not your fault. It’s not his fault either. Bruce will understand when he returns to his normal state.”

“What if he feels uncomfortable around me? Rao, it’s practically rape, all those times I—”

“Kal El,” Diana snapped. “Give Bruce some credit here. _He will understand._ Knowing him, he’d probably feel guilty for forcing himself on you, when it was nobody’s fault. _Men,_ ” she muttered.

Kal sighed. “I just hope we fix him soon.”

“We will Kal,” Diana said. “J’onn will solve this. Now stop worrying.”

“Thanks Diana,” Kal said, giving her a small smile before closing the connection.

When he returned to the cockpit, Bruce had already set their route and was tweaking the controls, barely even glancing at Kal when he dropped into the chair beside him.

“Relax,” Bruce finally said, eyeing him sidelong. “I’m not going to jump you. I know you don’t approve.” He sounded like he was trying for a light tone, but just sounded morose instead.

Kal resisted the urge to apologize at Bruce sounding so sad. “It really isn’t that I don’t approve. It’s more—” he said. How could he explain to Bruce that everything he believed about himself was a lie? That Bruce wasn’t actually who he thought he was? “You’re not well, Bruce,” Kal finally settled on saying. “When we get back to the Watchtower, J’onn will help you get better, and then, if you still want to, you can jump me all you want.”

Bruce was staring at him intently. “You promise?”

 _Of course I do; I love you. I love you so much, apparently, that I accidentally turned you into a pleasure slave through someone else’s wedding chant. Of course I promise,_ Kal wanted to say, but he shoved all that aside and just said, “Yes.”

It seemed to satisfy Bruce, at least.

“I _will_ still want you, you know,” Bruce said after a pause.

“How do you know?” Kal asked.

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his chair back. “It’s hard to explain. But you know, just because I’m sick or something, or have amnesia, or whatever, I’m still _me_. You can’t change who I am. And I want you,” he said.

“But I can’t be sure,” Kal said, not letting the desperation seep into his tone. “I can’t be sure this isn’t just a product of your…amnesia.”

Bruce lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I know nothing I say will convince you, but I know that this isn’t just a side effect. I want you in a way that feels sometimes like my very bones are on fire. When you’re near, I can’t think; I can’t concentrate on anything but you. It has to come from _me_. What kind of sickness could make me feel that way?”

 _The kind that brainwashes you into thinking you’re my pleasure slave?_ Kal just sighed in response, and they passed the rest of the journey in silence.

***

When the Watchtower came in view, Kal turned to Bruce and said, “I want you to act like Batman when we land.”

“Why?” Bruce asked.

“It’s…roleplaying,” Kal said, flushing slightly. “You know.”

Bruce smirked. “I do know.”

“Pretend we’re having a secret affair and the rest of the League can’t know about it,” Kal said. “Emphasis on secret.”

They ran into Green Lantern on the way to the healing ward. “Batman. Superman. You’re back early. Successful mission?”

“Yes, the Drinians were very pleased,” Kal said.

“…I have to ask. Why exactly are you wearing that?” Ah, Rao. In his haste and nervousness about getting Bruce off the ship unseen, and since he’d gotten used to the sight of it, Kal had completely forgotten about the robe.

“I am the Batman,” Bruce said in an exaggerated growl. “As such, I can wear whatever the hell I want. So keep your nose out of my private affairs, Green Lantern.”

Green Lantern blinked. Before he could say anything, Kal clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Okay, well, time to go! Nice seeing you,” he said cheerfully, quickly steering Bruce away. Thankfully they made it to the healing ward without further trouble.

“That is not how Batman acts,” Superman muttered.

Bruce was unperturbed. “I thought I did pretty well,” he said.

Diana was waiting for them. “How’s he doing?” she asked Kal, eyes widening at the sight of Bruce but choosing not to comment.

Kal grimaced in response, then asked, “Where’s J’onn?”

Diana sighed. “He’s still meditating on the problem. He says to take him to familiar ground, as comfortable surroundings will make it easier for him to break the brainwashing.”

Kal groaned. Familiar ground meant Gotham, and he was not relishing Alfred’s reaction to Bruce’s current state of mind.

“How are you feeling, Bruce?” Diana asked.

“Like Batman,” Bruce replied.

Diana looked at Kal. “Does he—?”

“No,” Kal said.

“We’re roleplaying,” Bruce said, watching smugly as Diana lifted an eyebrow and Kal sputtered a bit.

“That’s it, we’re leaving now,” Kal said. He bid Diana goodbye and teleported them both to the Batcave. Bruce didn’t seem to notice his surroundings, not commenting on any of the collection of seemingly random things, or the many computers, or the Batmobile, sitting sleek and powerful off to the side of the cave. He seemed to know where he was going though, as he headed directly for the stairs that led up to the Manor, looking neither left nor right.

“Uh, wait. Bruce!” Kal flew in front of Bruce, blocking the door. “Wait here a moment. Alfred and Dick don’t know that you’re sick yet.”

“Oh,” Bruce said. “They _have_ seen worse though,” he pointed out.

Kal doubted that, but— “You remember them?”

Bruce nodded. “Of course. They’re my…” He frowned.

“Your what, Bruce?” Kal prompted gently.

“…I don’t know,” Bruce said, confused. “I just…”

“It’s alright,” Kal said. “But you see why I want you to stay here while I go explain the situation to them.”

Bruce looked frustrated but sat down on the stairs to wait. Kal left him and stepped into the Manor, searching for Alfred or Dick.

“Clark!” a happy voice shouted. He looked up to see a young boy slide down the banisters. “You’re back!”

The sound of Alfred’s protests were not far behind.

“Sorry,” the boy said, contrite for the moment.

“Ah, Mister Kent,” Alfred greeted him, noticing Kal standing there. “May I presume that Master Bruce has also returned?”

“Yeah, we’re back early,” Kal said, noticing Alfred’s sharp look. The butler knew too well why they would return early. Kal hastened to reassure them. “No one’s injured, don’t worry. Bruce got brainwashed. He remembers you, but doesn’t know who you are to him.”

“It is curable?” Alfred asked, and Kal could hear old pain straining his voice, though he seemed unflappable as always.

“J’onn’s already working on it,” Kal told him. “He said that being in familiar surroundings might ease Bruce’s recovery.”

“He should stay in the Cave then,” Dick piped up. “What’s he been brainwashed into thinking anyways?”

“He, uh—” _wants to have sex with me all the time_ “—thinks he’s in love with me,” Kal said.

Dick grinned. “So, not much different than usual, then?” Alfred coughed pointedly. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Back to work, Robin.” He scampered off with a cheerful wave to Kal.

 _Not much different than usual—?_

***

After spending a long night in the Cave, Kal was more than relieved when J’onn called him the next morning to say that he had figured out how to undo the brainwashing. Bruce had spent the night not quite back to his old self but not the infuriating, sex obsessed slave he’d been for the past few days. Kal had had to watch him carefully to make sure that he didn’t get a flash of memory and decide to drive off in the Batmobile.

They teleported up to the Watchtower and asked J’onn to meet them at the medical ward, Bruce staring at him all the while.

“What is it, Bruce?” Kal finally asked when it became apparent Bruce wasn’t going to say anything. Bruce fidgeted a little.

“I love you,” he said quietly. Kal sucked in a sharp breath.

“I love you too, Bruce,” he said and Bruce’s eyes filled with pain.

“But not _me_.” He looked down.

There was a knock at the door. J’onn. Kal glanced at Bruce and opened the door to let J’onn in. “He’s going to make me think I’m not your pleasure slave anymore, isn’t he?” Bruce asked softly.

“How did you know?”

Bruce ducked his head. “I hacked into your message with him and Diana,” he said. “Can you kiss me, Master, before he makes me forget?”

Kal nodded. He pulled the cowl off Bruce’s face and gently moved his thumb over a cheek in a caress. Then he leaned in, brushing his lips with Bruce’s ever so slightly.

“Tell him,” Bruce said when Kal stepped outside and reached for the door. “Tell him what you told me.”

“I will,” Kal promised.

***

Kal peered into the viewing deck, where a black clad figure was standing, gazing out toward the Earth. He went to stand next to him.

“So, uh, not exactly your idea of the best way to spend your Valentine’s Day, huh?” Kal joked weakly, thinking of poor Audrey Fontaine, who was one of the better ones, he had to admit. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to feel that bad for her, as she had dated her way through half of Gotham’s eligible bachelors before sinking her claws into Gotham’s prince—all in one year. And now, after having been snubbed on Valentine’s Day, had given a scathing interview with paparazzi who delighted in any kind of information regarding the notorious playboy.

Batman turned flat white lenses to stare at him, making Kal wish for a moment that he was still wearing those pleasure slave robes. Or, at least the mask; Kal had gotten used to seeing Bruce’s eyes. The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched as if he could hear Kal’s thoughts. “No, not exactly,” he agreed. There was a moment of silence where Batman seemed to forget about Kal’s presence altogether, his head moving back to survey the stars. Then, “You wanted me.” A statement, not a question.

“Yes,” Kal admitted. “Nothing happened,” he hastened to reassure him, but Batman cut him off.

“Don’t worry. I know.”

Kal felt a flash of alarm. “What do you remember?”

Batman turned to face him completely this time, mouth curled into a familiar smirk. “ _Everything_. And I can think of one thing you can do to make up for it.”

Kal backed up as Batman advanced on him, feeling arousal pool in his stomach even as he felt the wall against his back. “Are you sure you’re completely fine?” he asked doubtfully.

Batman pulled off the cowl with one smooth motion, blue eyes simmering with heat. “Not really. I’m uncomfortably hard and if memory serves, we have about a week’s worth of debauchery to make up for. And I’ve been waiting much longer than that for this.”

“Bruce—wait—” Kal managed between gasps as Bruce kissed him hard. Bruce pulled back, looking aggrieved.

“What?” he demanded. Kal had Bruce in his Watchtower room, stripped and in his bed, before Bruce could finish the word.

Bruce blinked up at him and then stretched sinuously on the sheets. Kal took a moment to look his fill as he had never dared before. Bruce wriggled a little and said in a passable imitation of his past week’s self, “Fuck me, Master.” His eyes sparked with mischief and something more.

And Kal pounced.

***

They lay tangled together on the sheets in a comfortable heap afterwards, neither willing to move just yet. Bruce shifted a little so that he could see Kal’s face. “I believe you made me a promise,” he said, smiling.

Kal propped himself up on an elbow and grinned back. “I did, didn’t I?” he mused.

“Well go on then,” Bruce said, lying back.

Kal rolled his eyes a little, but obeyed. “I love you Bruce Wayne,” he said. Then he yelped as Bruce moved, lightning fast, and flipped them over so that Kal was looking up at Bruce. His Bruce. Finally.

“Love you too.”


End file.
